


Early to the Vineyards

by amituvia



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Multi, francis is well-fed but could use a bit of spoiling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amituvia/pseuds/amituvia
Summary: Indeed, Ann had mentioned in her letters that Ross himself could use a friend or two these days. Considering the hellishness of the Londonian summertime, a trip to the country is would be a delight either way. Perhaps they could even make a tradition out of it. Perhaps, when James retires and they would be free to leave the city, the four of them shall get to live side by side, all close companions to one another.In which Francis isn't hungry, but James knows a craving when he sees it.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames, Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames/Sir James Clark Ross, Lady Ann Ross/Sir James Clark Ross, but also sort of all of them
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Early to the Vineyards

**Author's Note:**

> sort of falls into the same universe as "when sinews give way" but can def be read as a standalone.

_Let us go early to the vineyards; Let us_   
_see if the vine has flowered, if its_   
_blossoms have opened, if the_   
_pomegranates are in bloom. There I will_   
_give my love to you._

_-_ _Song of Solomon 7:12_

\-----------------------------------------------

Francis woke to an empty bed.

He went to sleep late yesterday, despite James’ chiding about how he knows Francis hates to miss much of the morning. But stayed up he did, and got up accordingly. James probably did not wake him up on principle.

Sighing, he carded his hair and set out in search for the man, as well as something to wet his throat with.

When he found him, James was already seated at the table, dressed in his uniform and writing something down in a heavy journal, a cooling cup of tea rested in front of him. He smiled up at Francis as he notices him at the door. "Just in time. Come sit with me - the tea was still warm, and strong as you like."

"Going anywhere?"

"For a while, yes. I forgot to tell you last night, but my presence was requested by the admiralty for my gunnery expertise. It shouldn't take too long, don't you worry - I'm not going to miss our dinner with the Rosses."

The Rosses came to town for a relative’s wedding, and considering the vast number of friends they had in the area, elected to stay for a two weeks’ time. Francis, not being a man of many words, always rather struggled with his letters, and eagerly awaited to see his good friend face to face after so long without – not since the court-martial nearly two years ago. It would also be the first meeting between his two Jameses outside a public setting, which he was oddly nervous about.

"You better not.” He said as he poured himself some tea. “After he read the book you helped Goodsir illustrate three weeks ago, he mentioned wanting to talk to you about those glowing blubbers five times. Even asked me send some of your colored sketches, as you recall."

"Far be it for me to put out such a dear friend of yours." Said James, smiling at him playfully with a cup in hand.

Francis nodded, raising a single eyebrow. "Good."

The clock at the far end of the hall chimes for nine. "Damn, I better head out." Called James, and got up while blessing Francis' head with a kiss.

"No breakfast in you, I imagine?"

James threw him a smirk over his shoulder as he got his coat on. "You worry too much, darling."

As a result, he came back home starved, not only in time but eager to leave, hurrying Francis to get dressed. Francis, on his part, made a show of dressing slowly, and laughed when a pillow was thrown his way.

When they arrive, Ross pulled him to an embrace as soon as he walks into the room, forcefully petting him on the back as he does. James took his introduction to Ann upon himself, who appeared to be charmed about his wide grin and seemingly honest questions, making Francis smile their way.

Ross casted him an amused look at that. The man indicated in the past he found Francis' change of heart – from insulting the then-commander at every opportunity to always keeping him within arm's reach – to be highly entertaining. Perhaps specifically in the sense of 'I told you so', as he could still recall Ross’ frustration at failing to secure James for their journey south.

Despite rarely acknowledging anything of such sort, Francis enjoyed the gentle tease: With Blanky back in Yorkshire, and much of the rest of the men home, he found himself in need of a physical friend, especially one so old and dear. Yet as a prideful man uninclined to admit defeat or openly encourage a barb, replied simply with a raised brow.

Much to Francis’ frustration, half of the stories told around the table are during the meal about him. Though admittedly he might have been playing up his displeasure to the amusement of his company.

Appropriately, James also told them all about the cheetah he kept on his ship, the monkeys he’d seen in India, the crocodiles in Egypt. “But I have never seen a single penguin – that most elusive beast! Possibly for the best, as I would have likely tried to make a companion of it and take it with me home.”

Ross smiled at him good-naturally. “Perhaps it was fortunate after all that you did not come with us to Antarctica. You and Frank here would have been insufferable together. I loath to think what sort of mischief you would have unleashed on to the ships.”

“Oh now!” calls Francis, “I believe it would have been the force of you two’s fascination with any and all living things that would have put us to ill-ease! I tell you Ann,” He turned towards the woman who was currently hiding her mouth behind a delicate hand, “There were days I’d come to this husband of yours to find him dead on his feet, and when I asked what was the matter he’d reply he’d stayed up all night, attempting taxidermy.”

Ann nodded in agreement. “That does sound like you, dearest.”

James petted Ross’s arm lightly. “Pay him no mind Sir – he simply knows that between the two of us he’d stand no chance to brood alone by his desk.”

Ross laughed at that, placing a hand over James’ far shoulder as he did, leaning into him. “Should we prepare another ball, which James of _Erebus_ would he choose to dance with, do you think?”

James’ smile turned cryptic at that. He fixed his gaze to Francis, and brought his glass up to his lips. “Which indeed?”

 _For god's sake_ , thought Francis. _They cannot do this to him_. He aimed for neutral tone and said “A ball was more than just one dance,”

That sent his three companions laughing, which was understandable, considering how placating it came out. “A gentleman’s answer.” Joked Ann.

“Indeed.” Agreed Ross. “And true enough, as I cannot say I would have been up to more than the one.” He looked back to James, who was clearly enjoying all this. “A frustrating business, dresses – have you ever tried one on yourself, Sir?”

For someone seemingly shooting blind, Ross proved himself to be quite the marksman.

Only a few days ago, James had been in one of her feminine moods, and walked around the house only in her dresses – though without stays, which she found too limiting.

When she first told Francis about her original choice of attire for carnival, and what it meant for her, there was a naked plea in her eyes, nearly desperate, which Francis understood perfectly, considering the weight of such a matter. Francis still wasn’t entirely sure that he fully grasped the complexity of his lover’s situation, but far be it from him to rob James such a simple delight. For his part, he found he did not much care: Most people had either a woman or a man for lovers while he got to have both in one pretty package.

Rather than showing any alarm, James just swirled his glass lazily. “Once, when in Malta, I starred a play before making lieutenant.” He smirks a bit, cocking his head. “But that story was somewhat unfit for all those present.”

Ross hummed at him knowingly. “Tell us later, then,” 

He had of course told James of his past... _Arrangement_ with Ross, when they just started to become involved and James wondered how exactly he became so skilled with his mouth. Francis mumbled in as few details as possible about the times Ross and he had spent together in such a manner, a long time ago, before he started courting Ann.

James for his part did not appear to mind, only made a short quip about his gain from it, and casually brought up the matter once or twice, and talked rather freely about his own past lovers. Francis, who never had much experience and very little lust to speak of until he liked a person well enough, decided that James’ experience was his gain as well, and his openness an encouragement to share his stories should he wish to.

It was good to see that James' apparent lack of jealousy hold up, and once dinner was done the two sat by one another, discussing arctic fauna as if they were the best of chums, laughing any now and then about an unrelated tail. He found himself rather pleased they both seemed to get along so well. Their nonchalance smoothing up creases in his mind with warmth.

He allowed himself to look at them for a moment longer - at Ross crossing his legs and gently swaying the one on top, telling about their claim to Franklin island as James listened eagerly with a happy, open face, placing his hand on the man's bicep - until a slender hand on his shoulder startled him.

He turned to see Ann smiling at him softly. “I wanted to say it before, but there wasn’t really the right moment for it, so before it was too late and strange let me just say, that I am so very glad to see you in person, and confirm that your elevated spirit on paper was reflected in the flesh.”

Francis tried to hold her gaze, but soon ended up looking down at his hands instead, entwinning them uneasily. He knew good and well just how worried the couple had been about him before he left north, as well as during the voyage itself – so much so that Ross nearly went after him when they failed to return as expected. “I never meant to be a cause for concern,”

“I know,” said Ann gently. “And you mustn’t think of yourself in such terms. You are a dear friend to James and me, and when you are down it was only natural for us to worry.” At Francis’ flinch of smile she added “Either way you are one no longer. You and Sir James take good care of one another, and should the two of you ever need anything do not hesitate to knock on our door. In fact, please come visit us this summer, if you find the time. We will be delighted to have you both.”

Indeed, Ann had mentioned in her letters that Ross himself could use a friend or two these days. Considering the hellishness of the Londonian summertime, a trip to the country was would be a delight either way. Perhaps they could even make a tradition out of it. Perhaps, when James retires and they would be free to leave the city, the four of them shall get to live side by side, all close companions to one another.

A sweet thought. Hopeful. The kind that tends to hurt him most – but this thought warmed him so well he found himself laying another on top: After all that he had been through in life, he wished for this future James to trust and be accepted by more than Francis alone, to be unbothered and unashamed, to talk to Ann about his dresses, to speak his mother’s tongue, to go to bed with Francis, or maybe, should he want to – should Ross -

“Thank you, Ann.” He nodded gratefully, feeling his ears warming. "I believe we shall take you on the offer."

When they came back home, about two hours later, James took no time to undresses to the point of standing only in his shirtsleeves and trousers, giving him funny looks all the while. “So,” He began after walking towards Francis until he can press his palm to his chest. “The evening went well, I should say." Francis grunted in agreement, letting himself be touched. "A certain gentleman kept on giving me rather daring looked…” The hand trailed up to his face, cupping his cheek, “Care to act on any of them?”

Not yet free of the thoughts that swam in and out of his mind the last few hours and starving for touch, Francis leaned in for a fierce kiss, holding onto James' face. He still tasted a bit of wine, despite not drinking much at all. He usually avoids heavy drinking these days, which Francis rather appreciates, but there was always something a bit exiting sucking that sweetness from his lips. He pulled back a few minutes after, panting a bit as he does. “I want you in my mouth,” He said, punctuating his request with another short kiss. “May I?”

James giggled a bit against him, letting him feel that giddy vibration. Francis could feel the creases about his eyes under his thumb. “Well, since you asked so nicely,”

He got to his knees carefully while James began to work on his buttons. Francis batted the hand away, finished the job and hurriedly pulled down both his trousers and pants. James was only half-hard, and should fit into his mouth comfortably enough.

James hummed softly, and placed his hand on Francis’ head, not yet doing anything. God, but he was eager for the taste. He wanted some roughness to it. Maybe for James to pull his hair, to force him down - but did not say anything. Instead, he swallowed deeply, with one hand on James’ thigh and another on the base of his prick, feeling it harden against his tongue as he moved back and forth. After a few moments, James grip on him started to tighten, to which he moaned appreciatively.

He loved the saltiness of it, wanted the smell of James all around him, the dull pain. His skin prickled with heat, and drool driped down his chin – “Was it like that with him too?”

Francis looked up at James, who was gazing at him with hooded eyes and warmed cheeks. “With Sir James? Were you this keen to suck him too?”

Francis pulled off, shocked. Was he so obvious today? Good thing his face cannot color further. “James…”

“I noticed I wasn’t the only one getting stared at.” His hand caressed his hair in reassurance. “Please, I’m not jealous. Tell me how you were together.”

He remembered himself and Ross, younger and more desperate, awkward and unknowing, touching each other, flushing deeply. He remembered how, after the third time, after he’d been dreaming about it, dying for it, asking Ross if he could suck him. The noises he made for him on those occasions he never heard from the man again.

“It was all new to us then,” He began, pausing to mouth James some more. He hadn’t touched himself yet, and wished for something to rub himself against. “I never touched another's cock before. He was my first and I was his. We didn’t rightfully know what we were doing. All I knew was how much I wanted him in me, but we didn’t have the time for it. It was always fast and dirty.” James hips twitched, his mouth fell slightly open. “I grew to like the taste of it rather quickly, after that.”

“I bet he would have had you right there if he could,” Panted James as he took him in again. “I bet he – wanted to fuck you so badly. I want to – look at you Francis, look – _god_ , the sight the two of you must have been – “

The two of them? What candle could Francis possibly hold to the image of James and Ross, with their beautiful hair, their warm eyes, their lovely mouths? Would James hold the other’s face too, should they kiss? Would Ross hug his lower back? What sounds would they make? Sometimes, Ross would fondle his arse, which Francis likes more than he cares to admit. James likes the same for his chest. Would Ross do it for him? play with his tits?

He was moaning in earnest now, which James seemed to appreciate. He shivered all over and called “No, no, get off –“ He grabed Francis’ shoulders and gave him a terribly hungry look. “I want to have you. Please.”

Thought disappointed at the thought he would not get to finish what he started, he nodded, swallowing. “Yes,”

James combed a strand from Francis’ eyes. “I was thinking… I want to try something a bit different today, if you would indulge me?” He was so gorgeous like this. Ever-so-slightly disheveled, a hint of his neck showing from beneath the collar. Francis was ready to give him whatever he wanted.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Have you ever… Been with two people at once?”

Oh, but this cannot be possible. He cannot be allowed! He was too greedy already, his mind forcing him to look at beauty he should not taint: He could see James in her pretty blue dress, the one he got her for her birthday in July, sitting on Ross lap, elegant and serene as she –

“No,”

“You remember the wooden toy I have? Well, I want to put it in you. With me. At the same time. If that was something that might interest you.”

“Yes, yes, we can try, I would like that,“ His prick throbbed at the mere thought. He wandered in the past if such a thing could be done, though never with him in the center of it. He was also no young buck, and this cannot be an easy feat. Or fit, for that matter. “But be careful with this old man.”

James smiled, and sunk to his knees as well, putting his arms over Francis’ shoulders, and kissing him sweetly.

Not too long after, with both legs bent and one arm perched above his head, he was swaying back and forth with the movement of James’ right hand as it went in and out of him. His prick remained untouched, but James’ other hand was roughly palming his chest, going down to his belly every now and then, making Francis hot and impatient.

James’ dark curls fell on his face every few moments, and he tossed them away like an irritated horse, his eyes never leaving Francis, even as he grasped for the greying hair of his trail, causing him to jolt. “I love your hair,” He said with a sigh. “I love your pecs.”

Francis gave a breathy chuckle at that, only to gasp when James’ fingers twisted in him. “You’ll love any pair of breasts, it seems like. A wonder your bed hadn’t seen more women over the years.”

“Ah, but that would only serve to make me envious, and going to bed angry will not do.” He said it as a joke, but Francis could detect the honesty in it as well. “Never cared to sire bastards, either.” He added. At that, Francis raises his hand and kisses it apologetically, which rewarded him with a small smile. “Now, now, let’s not put a damper on the mood – not when you already look so deliciously debauched.” He pulled his fingers out slowly at that, and slicked them some more. “Think you can take another one?”

At his eager nod, he pushes three fingers into him, and leans down to kiss his neck. It was a bit of an awkward angle, and must be straining for the wrist, but James didn’t seem to mind, licking at him and biting him lightly in between kisses. James’ belly was pressing down on his groin, giving him some sweet friction Francis could not help but rut against.

“No,” The tone was soft but commanding, as if chiding a child. “Not yet. You’re waiting for us.” He nipped at his neck from the edge of the jaw to where it meets the shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Francis?”

Francis groaned in frustration, clenching his body to will it still. “Get on with it, then.”

James chuckled, breathing against his collarbone, rattling them both. “Are you certain?” He teased, curling his fingers.

“Yes, goddamn it James, just go get it already!” James took his fingers out, and got up slowly, looking at Francis fondly as he did, savoring his appearance. Francis was red down to his belly, and his hair found its way to his face again, sticking to his forehead with sweat. For someone who cares so deeply about looking well put together, James seems to have a weakness for messy things.

He fished the instrument out of the drawer and presented it with triumphant glee. It was dark cherry wood, and well crafted: smooth and realistic, mercifully only slightly on the large side, with a gentle curve near the top. “Is dear Sir James about this big?” James kept his eyes on him as he oils it. “Would it be similar enough?”

He tried to recall its weight in his hand, the length of it as he licked it, and swallowed. “It will serve, yes.”

“ _It will serve_ ,” James mocked, laughing as he jumped down on the bed again. “I intend to do more than that – but perhaps that can be achieved through combined effort.” He lifted his arse and placed a pillow beneath it. “Would that satisfy the great Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier?”

He reached for James’ arm as he positions them further. “You alone would be enough.”

He couldn't quite make out the look on his face, but James’ voice was soft and low when he kissed his knee and said “I know, darling. But I want to give you more than enough.” He shoved the wooden prick in with a single smooth motion, intentionally scrapping that spot inside Francis that made him moan, and started setting a steady pace. “I want to give you what you deserve. Men should be lining up to be with you, begging for scraps at your table, a second of your affection will be enough to warm them,” He laughed some more, raising a brow. “I should know.”

Yes, James would know. On _Erebus_ , their first time around, he’d been so urgent about it, pushing Francis back and sitting himself on him, gasping “ _Francis, Francis, Francis_ ,”. He smirks at the memory, even as his breath hitches. “Scraps did not seem to satisfy _you_.”

“But I am a starving man.” Replies James, pushing in forcefully, causing him to whine. “Starving for your approval, for your eyes on me, your words, your hands –“ He reached down to palm himself and inhaled audibly. “ _Christ_ , your hands.”

It always felt intoxicating to hear him speak as such, the reflection of his own desire at the time, of how badly he wanted to reach out to James Fitzjames - who made a career of prying hidden treasure out of charmed hands - and have him all to himself. Francis shuddered as a familiar wave of goosebumps went through him, all the way to his toes. He felt them curling involuntarily, grasped at the sheets, and trembled.

James let him, shifting about at his opening a bit. “Am I hurting you now?” He asked after a few more moments.

“No, no, you –“ He hissed. “I think you – can put a finger in me now.”

“I already am,” There was a bit of wander in his voice that made Francis open his eyes and strain his neck. He looked at the point where James’ fingers met his body, then to his face, and drops his head back down.

“That you do.” He said, and then chuckled a bit, overwhelmed. Trough the wonderful haze of pleasure, Francis made himself tighten and relax. The stretch was easy. There was barely any pain to it. “Steady on, then.”

James was gently caressing his thigh with a clammy thumb as he drives the wood in. That simple touch combined with the urgent thrusts made Francis ache for another set of hands on him. Numbly, he reached for his chest and felt himself up as James did before. When he looked up to catch his eyes, James' gaze is, unsurprisingly, on him.

He refused to look away from him ever since they started here. Always measuring, always calculating, piercing, disarming. Damn James, for undoing him with his gaze alone. Somehow, the thought amused him, and he was too far gone not to let it show. There was something rather cautious about the look he got in return.

“I’m sorry you never got to have it like this. Lengthy and laughing.” James' tone was nearly mournful. “I know we have each other, and I love you dearly, and grateful you kept me – but I know the harshness of it, of loving so well, and then…” He pauses to sigh. “He would have had you if he could. I know he would, I’ve _seen_ you, the both of you, and for your sake I would share. Our bed and our table, until you’ve eaten your fill.”

He was dizzy with it now, gulping down air. He felt divine, and can barely put the words together, but knew he must speak up, and forced himself to whiz “I’m not hungry, James.”

“But you are craving.” He eased the finger out of him and coated another one. “I want to spoil you. We want to give you our all, Francis. Will you take it?”

And Perhaps like that he has a place in the picture, as a vessel, an instrument, something to be used, hopefully with loving hands, one of them will use his mouth - maybe Ross, for old times’ sake – and the other will take the back, and above him (and please, may he be on his back so that he may see) they will kiss each other at length, part only when needed. They will use him until they are done, spent and satisfied, and turn to kiss Ann. Her curls will bounce against James’ own dark ones, their faces will be nearly entirely hidden, but they’ll both glow, like supernal creatures.

“Please.” He said simply, his voice breaking on this single word.

James pressed back in, making him _squirm_ , and took his time getting to his previous pace, until Francis was moaning with every roll of his hips, panting harshly, heartbeat impossibly loud in his ears, the whole time thinking of James, of Ross, rocking wildly into him, gripping each other fervently, a mirror image.

His leavings were already pooling of on his belly when James finally buried himself within him, choking him on it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whined. His eyes misty and unfocused. “ _James_ ,”

"You're doing fine, Francis," Said James, rubbing over his leg with his newly freed hand. "You're doing so well." He lifted the leg and placed it over the shoulder. “Wonderful.” A soft kiss was planted on his thigh. “If Ross were here, he wouldn’t be able to get his hands off of you. He would take whatever he could get, but lucky for me, it was not all you have to offer.” James took him to hand, giving him a few strokes. “We wouldn’t dare fight. And – and should we upset you…" His face turned coy for a moment. A strange, endearing sight. "We could always kiss and make up.”

Francis inhaled sharply. Would he really -? Does James also want-? But then he did ask, when they began. Said he watched them both. Said _the sight the two of you must have been._

Fucking hell, him leaning towards Ross when they spoke, touching him gently, was it all flirtation? When they both looked at him, coaxing him into conversation, did they not do it with matching boyish delight?

 _dessert goes to another stomach_ , James had once said. Was this his true meaning, decadence on top of satiation? Francis was full, and yet wanted more, as much as he was given. A thousand images flood him, stuffing his mind. “James, James, hurry _up_! I can take it, I can take it, but _please_!”

Then James was having him with jabbing thrusts. He was so deep inside him, so wonderfully heavy above him, their foreheads so very close – he would kiss James if he could do anything but groan.

The wood barely moved with how tight he was around it. It rubbed inside him firmly, pressing relentlessly against that spot again and again, making him see stars, and Francis let out a shout, kept shouting as he's fucked like that, open and full, with James rubbing his cock, until he shuttered violently, and came.

He was shaking after. James met his own end inside him and even then he shook. The world felt deem and distant, and he was somewhere outside of it, unable to see or move. A hand was touching his face, and after a moment he realized – _James, it must be James_ – and whimpered as he tried to talk.

“Francis? Are you with me, dear?”

 _I’m here_ , he wanted to say, but ended up simply rubbing his nose into James’ palm.

A minute passed, and James pulled away, only to come back a moment later with a damp cloth and a glass of water. He cleaned Francis slowly and thoroughly – he must have pulled the toy out earlier without him registering it – and then lied back down, slightly on top of him, and it like that that he fell asleep.

_In a light filled room, a large bed was shared by four. Sun beams come through the French window and dust dances within them. “Frank,” A man said quietly, and grasps his hand. A woman with long dark hair has her head on his chest. He rubs his thumb across the back of the man’s hand, until a rustling sound compels him to turn around. On his other side, someone in a long white dress sits up, dipping the mattress. The light shines on their face, their hair, bathing them in gold. Their face was severe and protective, as if on guard, until they look down at him, and their lines smooth over._

Francis woke to an empty bed.

James sat by the desk on the other side of the room, sketching one thing or another, and smiled up at him when he rose to his elbows. “Hello there.”

“Hello. How long have I been out?”

“A bit more than an hour. Let’s hope you didn’t ruin your sleep again.”

Francis rollwed his eyes, and walks over to the desk. He places a hand on James’ shoulder as he leans over to see what he was been doing: Some oranges, it looked like, with a few fresh leaves and tiny white blossoms. Been a while since that smell filled his nostrils. _I had a dream you were Hestia_ , he almost said, but kissed his temple instead.

“Thank you. For what you’ve given me tonight.” His voice was rather gruff. Perhaps it was from sleep.

James leaned his head back against him. “Nothing you couldn’t take.”


End file.
